


Friends and Lovers

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [33]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: The other side of that scene in Salad Days.
Relationships: Jean-Luc Picard/Deanna Troi, William Riker/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1222406
Comments: 14
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Anybody can sympathise with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathise with a friend's success.  
― Oscar Wilde

"You're sure we can just drop in?" Bell asked.

Will held her hand as they walked through the corridors of the _Enterprise_. He did his best to set aside nostalgia, smiling and nodding to the few officers they passed. "They're at a starbase, so are we. When I contacted the bridge deLio said they were both off duty."

Bell gave him a raised eyebrow. She'd already said, before they'd left the _Lexington_ , that she believed he should have then tried to contact their friends directly. But she didn't repeat herself.

They reached the appropriate door; their quarters had moved, from deck five to deck four. He touched the panel and waited. The door opened within seconds, but they walked into an empty room. Will noticed the door off to the left standing open -- and further, noticed that things had been rearranged, the desk set in the far corner with a bookcase behind it, the table and chairs beneath the viewports, the single couch replaced by a sectional tucked in the corner. It was all standard issue, still, but there were a couple of vases of flowers and the large digital picture frame on the wall.

"Huh," Bell said softly after a moment of silence. Will let go her hand and went to peer in the open door.

Jean-Luc was holding a piece of wood, standing over some project on a workbench in front of him. Will had never seen him work with wood before. He'd experimented with painting long ago, and had a short list of athletic pursuits he enjoyed -- riding, fencing, velocity. But this?

"Hey, there," Will called softly.

Jean-Luc glanced over his shoulder. "Good afternoon," he said. "Welcome aboard." He put the wood down and turned around. Out of uniform as well as off duty, Will noted. His former CO wore a plain brown shirt and pants. Definitely he was more relaxed than Will would expect -- Jean-Luc Picard was always ready for duty, even when in orbit around a starbase. Yet here he was surrounded by wood shavings and with glue stains on his shirt. And he had some sort of tattoo on the back of his neck, which Will had seen before but not yet questioned. He thought he knew what it meant. Betazoid traditions had once been something he'd researched and debated with the Troi family.

"What's the project? I didn't know you were into woodworking." Will came closer, trying to make out what he was working on. Bell came along with him, smiling at Jean-Luc. Predictably their friend smiled warmly at her and held out his hands to take hers.

" _Belle chère, il est bon de vous voir._ " He kissed her cheek when she came to greet him in like fashion. 

"What's the project? Is this for the baby?" she asked brightly, smiling and running a finger along the crescent carved in the face of a large flat piece.

"If I don't turn it into kindling." He turned back to his project, removed the clamps and set aside the template. "This is one end. The other is there, drying." He gestured across the floor.

Will and Bell both looked at the varnished board standing in a pair of clamps next to the workbench. Will smiled appreciatively and pointed with his bearded chin at it. "Is that a flock of swans?"

"Over a pond of fish. Yes."

"And the moon and stars, for space," Bell said.

Jean-Luc smiled slyly. "Not exactly. This is his mother, the constellation is his father."

"Ah." Bell studied it, and frowned. "I don't understand, _cher_."

"Pisces. And the moon."

"But not cygnus?" Will asked, looking over Bell's shoulder.

"Diana was the goddess of the moon."

Will laughed at that. "And what are you the god of?"

Jean-Luc smiled and waved the question away. "Are you here for the afternoon, or do you have to rush off?"

"We have time enough to hang around for a day or so. On our way out to explore, no crisis or set mission to attend." Will glanced at some of the other pieces of wood leaning against the wall. "What else are you making?"

"If I'm brave enough, a rocking chair. I'll get Dee." He pulled the apron over his head and draped it on the workbench. "She's taking a nap."

"She's not on the bridge?" Will asked, as they followed Jean-Luc out into the main living area.

"Had a PFO alert. Carlisle's filling in for the afternoon."

"PFO alert. That's not mentioned in _my_ copy of standard operating procedures."

"Pregnant first officer. The first three months she was only mildly moody once in a while, nothing spectacular, but the last few weeks have been interesting. This morning she started to cry and couldn't stop. Seems to have something to do with levels of emotional stress of those around her, but it's not always that simple. Be right back."

They trailed behind him as far as the living room, watched him disappear into the bedroom, and looked at each other. "You're going to say this isn't like him," Bell said.

"Well, first time father, not sure how he could be what he was before. I'm sure I'd be different if I were waiting for my child to be born." He waved a thumb at the spare room, probably destined to be a nursery. "You'd be in there draping the walls with baby-friendly decorations and I might not build a crib, but I'd help you shop for one."

Bell's amusement was replaced by surprise, as she glanced around the room. "What's _that_?"

He followed her gaze and saw that the large digital frame on the wall currently had an image of Deanna with a bat'leth, her face twisted into a scowl reminiscent of Worf as she fended off a Klingon swinging another bat'leth down at her. The man in full armor was easily three feet taller and had a matching scowl. "Deanna learned mok'bara from Worf. But that's not Worf."

"I don't know anything about Klingon martial arts. Is that just posing, or was she really fighting?"

"Hard to say. I'd guess based on what I know about Klingons that they're fighting." Will studied the picture. He knew from what had been talked about at the wedding that Deanna's habits had changed quite a bit. There hadn't been a lot of explanation. "That's really different, for her. So they're both changing."

"Beverly said something about how much she's changed," Bell said, moving to sit in one of the chairs. He perched on the edge of the couch, noticing the big black book on the end of the coffee table. He turned it over, but there was no title on the cover anywhere. 

"That's sure an old album," Bell said. "Most people store pictures digitally now. But my grandmother has albums dating back centuries, that have been handed down forever for generations. The pictures fade -- at different points they were treated in some sort of protection or another, in hopes of preserving them."

"His family are traditionalists. He probably has a lot more back on Earth. Makes sense."

"I wonder what's keeping them," Bell said, running her fingers through her straight blond hair and tucking it behind her ears. "Maybe she was taking a bath or something? My sister resorted to all kinds of things, when she was pregnant. She said she had the worst cravings for the craziest things. For a while she grazed on crackers with nut butter, then it was pickles and nut butter. A hot shower sometimes helped with the back aches. And I know sometimes it makes a difference with other species -- like Bajorans, they sneeze a lot when experiencing morning sickness. I don't know too much about Betazoids, though."

"They haven't said much about that kind of thing." The few times he'd spoken to either of his friends on subspace, it had been brief; one time a red alert had terminated the conversation right after greeting each other. He knew Bell had chatted with Deanna once or twice, but she hadn't said much about it.

Bell tapped her nails on the arms of the chair and hummed a little. "She said she didn't want a baby shower, but maybe we should have brought a gift?" she said at length.

"It's hard to know what to get someone. We don't know what they already have. Maybe we should get a little outfit for Yves -- something like the duty uniform? Maybe with admiral's bars." He smirked at the thought. "Babies command your attention and you jump when they cry."

"Or we could get her a wrap to carry the baby. My sister said it was the best thing anyone got for her."

"A wrap?"

Bell smiled at him. "Have you ever held a baby?"

"Sure. There were a number of them born while I was aboard the _Enterprise_." They had a smaller crew on the _Lexington_ , with fewer opportunities to socialize, and while Will knew there were several couples, no one was cohabitating yet, including himself and Bell. The married folks were a minority, and spouses were elsewhere.

"For how long?"

Will frowned, his brows drawn in. "How long?"

"Yes. Have you ever held a crying baby, while trying to soothe it? How long did it take?"

"I can't say that I've had to do that. I really didn't have time for babysitting."

Bell's knowing look was mildly irritating. "What's her favorite color, do you know?"

"I don't know that she has one. What about a toy?"

"Babies don't care about toys until they're older. I'm thinking about what they might need for the first month, which is a huge adjustment, particularly for new parents. I listened to Isabel go on and on about having her baby and how difficult it was, I want to get something that will help them." 

Will hadn't met Bell's older sister yet, or any other member of her family, and sometimes when she talked about them it made him want to avoid them. It seemed to him that they were continually engaged in dramas of their own making. He glanced at the bedroom door, wondering if their host had gotten caught up in some drama of his own. 

"I hope she's okay," Bell said.

"I think if something was really wrong there would be a doctor coming in, or they'd be coming out," he said. "But I'm starting to worry a little too."

"If she's really suffering with hormonal tears it might be better if we just leave her alone," Bell said. "We should have called first."

Will almost growled at her for saying it. But he had to begrudgingly admit that she had been right from the first -- he should have contacted Jean-Luc directly to see if it was a good time to visit. Shrugging, Will leaned back, putting his arms out along the back of the couch. "You're right. I should have contacted them before we came."

Bell looked at him with wide eyes, and that annoyed him further -- why be so surprised that he admitted the mistake? She sighed, looked at the dark gray carpet. "And it's hard to just go and not say we're leaving."

Another long silence, or so it seemed to him. He was accustomed to having quiet on the bridge, where he would typically spend time while the ship was in transit to the next assignment doing the little administrative chores that came with a starship. The quiet only got to him when he was off duty. He didn't often have to wait like this.

Just as he was about to suggest leaving, the bedroom door opened and Deanna emerged. She was in uniform and smiling, composed -- but a little too happy, he thought. Which was very strange indeed given reports of her tearful hormonal state. "So good to see you," she exclaimed, holding out her arms as she crossed the room to hug Bell, who rose to reciprocate. Deanna looked pregnant, and wore the pleated maternity tunic. When she turned to hug him, he stood up and came around the coffee table to do so. The embrace was brief and reminded him of how much shorter she was than Bell.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get ready," she said as she pulled back. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Looks like we're having tea," Will commented. Jean-Luc had also come out and had gone to the replicator already. "Some Earl Grey would be great."

"Or chamomile," Jean-Luc said, as he brought the tray and placed it on the table. "The second pot is for those who prefer herbal tea."

"Jean-Luc mentioned you weren't feeling well -- it's good to see you're feeling better. At least I hope that you are?" Bell asked, as he sat in the other chair and started to pour tea. The first cup of chamomile went to Deanna. 

"It's better than it was this morning." Deanna went to the other end of the couch, and behind her, Jean-Luc looked up from pouring a cup of Earl Grey; Will almost laughed at the longsuffering disbelief in his expression. It reminded him of the times Lwaxana would show up and Jean-Luc would try to hide in a holodeck.

Deanna sat and spent a few seconds looking at Will, until he remembered she could tell how he felt. She sipped chamomile and turned another smile on Bell.

"Has morning sickness been an issue as well?" Bell asked. "I know it can vary quite a lot."

"It's been intermittent. I've been drinking a lot of tea, not that it helps much, but it gives me something to do. I was doing well managing it right up until this morning."

Bell's concern was obvious in her face. She shifted gears, though. "So how are you decorating the nursery? I mean, it looks like a workshop but I'm guessing you'll decorate it after he's done?"

"We already have some things -- would you like to see them?"

It led to two abandoned cups on the table and both women heading into the nursery. Jean-Luc watched them go, sipped his tea, settled back in the chair and seemed to relax a little more.

"How are you holding up?" Will asked softly.

"As well as possible, of course," Jean-Luc said. "I have no idea what's coming next. Nothing really helps consistently. She's fine, on duty, the majority of the time. Holds it together. Today was the first day she had to leave the bridge, and it upset her that she couldn't set aside her feelings."

"You'd think after centuries there would be something that could be done about it."

"The doctor is working on it. The hybrid issue makes it difficult. Apparently you can't generalize from one Betazoid-human hybrid to the next." Jean-Luc's brow wrinkled, as he drank tea and seemed to be looking at some random point in midair. Will realized he was focused on the picture on the wall, and turned his head to see.

The image of Deanna fighting off a Klingon had changed, to one of her standing with five other women. All of them wore incredibly-elaborate dresses reminiscent of most of Lwaxana's wardrobe. Their hair was done in the manner of a Betazoid adhering to the age-old traditions of the Houses, curled and piled and teased high on their heads with beads and ribbons wound through it all. Deanna wore the purple of the Fifth House from head to toe, the full skirts, high collar, low neckline and tight bodice all glittering with precious stones.

"I never thought she'd be in another one of those ceremonies," Will said. "She hates them."

When he turned back, Jean-Luc had a slight curl in his upper lip. But he sighed, reaching for the tea pot. "She loves her children, however."

Will blinked. That was something he couldn't quite parse.

"There are always reasons that the traditions continue," Jean-Luc went on. "Eventually we reach an age where we look backward and forward simultaneously. And the things that we disdain in our youth begin to make sense. Giving our children the opportunity to make sense of the past becomes important."

"That's why you have the tattoo on the back of your head? You're going to go through with the full ceremony? Or... have you already?" The tiny purple mark had to be the first step on a long road to the full ceremony.

Jean-Luc shook his head. "There wasn't adequate time. It will have to wait until we're on Betazed again."

Will remembered Lwaxana, shrill and insistent, arguing and demanding that he get the tattoos. He'd rejected her orders and squabbled with Deanna about it. In retrospect, he could see that she'd been in an impossible position, stuck between her mother and making him happy. Two ceremonies hadn't occurred to him as an option then. He'd been too caught up in the future mother-in-law's drama.

"I'm surprised you're willing to go through with it," Will commented.

Jean-Luc's veiled expression wasn't surprising. But his words were. "You've never been a parent."

Will had nothing to say to that. He raised his cup to his lips.

"Yet," Jean-Luc said, with a mercenary grin.

Rather than drop the tea or issue a rebuttal or denial, Will looped back to the question he'd intended to ask. "So when was she fighting with Klingons?" He pointed back over his head at the frame.

"You didn't recognize him -- that was Alexander, Worf's son," Jean-Luc said. "He spent some time with us and she helped him hone his skills with the bat'leth."

"That was _Alexander_? He's certainly not a kid any more!"

"That would be the other thing about children. They grow up fast. It reminds us of how time passes, and not to waste it."

Will looked up as Deanna and Bell came out of the nursery, laughing together. He watched them -- Bell caught his eye, smiled affectionately at him, and he returned the smile. She came to sit with him on the couch instead of returning to the chair and put a hand on his knee.

"Have you talked her into dinner on the starbase with us?"

"At this point, I'm inclined to issue a strong 'maybe,' contingent upon how Deanna feels," Jean-Luc said, watching his wife settle into the chair in front of him.

"You should feel free to throw us out any time," Bell said firmly. "Don't persist in accommodating us if you feel ill."

"I'm fine at the moment, so tell us -- how are things on the _Lexington_?" Deanna's cheeky grin said she wasn't interested in operations reports or warp core efficiency.

"I might have talked her into moving in with me," Will said, putting an arm around Bell.

Jean-Luc smirked. "You see, I was right."

"It was a bet I'm happy to lose," Deanna said, reaching for her cup and the white china pot to pour herself tea.

"You were wagering on us?" Bell chided.

"Not seriously. He was theorizing you might be engaged soon," Deanna said.

"Is there a betting pool about the baby's birthday? I might want to get in on that action," Will said.

"Geordi has one," Deanna said. "You can talk to him about it if you stick around for poker. We'll be playing tomorrow afternoon, when he comes back from the conference he's attending."

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Bell asked.

Deanna and Jean-Luc looked at each other. It was clear that the two of them were in a world all their own, when they looked at each other, and Will wondered -- he'd once believed that he'd had that kind of bond with her. For a moment he suffered a flutter of grief and regret. But he glanced at Bell, and she was looking at him; her clear, warm brown eyes held questions. He smiled at her and the questioning diminished. She leaned to kiss his cheek.

"We decided to name him Yves," Deanna said.

Will and Bell turned as one. "Him? It's a boy," Bell exclaimed.

"And Yvette if it's a girl," Jean-Luc added.

Will laughed at them. "Yeah, I think it's a boy. Too little too late."

"I guess we'll see," Deanna said with a chuckle.

"So can we see what's in your album?" Bell asked, gesturing at the one sitting next to the tea tray.

It led to Jean-Luc showing them pictures of his family. Will watched the faces of his friends, looked at the faces of Jean-Luc's parents, and wondered if there would be more than one Picard child to come. It seemed that both of them had found ways to reconcile themselves to follow tradition after all. He had to admit that they did appear to be well suited to one another.


	2. Chapter 2

Bell watched Jean-Luc's back as he walked away through the dimly-lit, cliched restaurant full of candle-lit tables and people leaning over plates of food. "It always seemed silly to me, to obsess about details like what color some small thing should be," Deanna said, poking at the strange green object on her plate with her fork. She had craved, ordered and regretted; her appetite had vanished after two bites, she'd said.

"My sister and my cousins have had children already. We all laugh about how instinctual some things seem to be. When I've seen pregnant women in sickbay it's a common complaint that they get caught up in things they didn't expect," Bell said, trying to be reassuring. There seemed to be some underlying tension in Deanna, and it was more obvious in Jean-Luc's reaction. He definitely hovered, in a very understated but noticeable way.

"How has the transition to first officer been going?" Will asked. Bell cast a sidelong glance at him. She suspected he'd been waiting for an opportunity to ask without Jean-Luc present.

Deanna grimaced. Putting down her fork, she reached for her glass of water. "I can't tell how much of the anxiety is hormones. I felt ready, then I found out about the baby. And so I don't know whether I'm noticing differences in his behavior, or just anxious. If he is treating me with deliberate hesitance I can't be certain whether it's because I'm pregnant, I'm his wife, or I'm doing something wrong."

"What you're doing is overthinking," Bell said at once. "If you're doing anything wrong he would tell you right away."

"She's right," Will said, giving Bell an approving look.

But Deanna had a weary look to her that suggested she knew, despite the second-guessing, that there was something afoot.

"All right," Will said, picking up his wine glass. "What crime have you committed then?"

His reward was a sarcastic look from Deanna. "No crimes."

Bell sat up a little as she noticed Jean-Luc returning. Will pursued it further. "Mistakes? Miscalculations? Near misses?"

Jean-Luc arrived at her shoulder, and she looked up at him. He trailed his fingers along her bare shoulder, stepped left, and sat down again. They were all in formal wear, not uniforms, and the black suit he wore made him more or less vanish in the lack of lighting. Deanna's shimmering dark blue dress had a similar issue.

"Cygne?"

The nickname always made Bell smile when he used it. It was always said with such warmth. Deanna smiled at him, shaking her head. "Will's trying to help me settle into my new job."

"Why do you feel you need his help? You have been doing quite well. Nechayev has been impressed with everything you've done," Jean-Luc said. "I haven't found anything to complain about or I would have told you."

Deanna sighed heavily, picked up her fork, and resumed poking the dumpling on her plate. 

"I didn't anticipate a briefing over dinner," Jean-Luc commented casually. 

"Neither did I." Deanna glanced at Will, a tiny wrinkle in her brow, and turned to look at her husband. "I'm sorry."

"We can discuss it in the morning. Though I do wonder if this has been keeping you awake at night." Jean-Luc spoke softly. It was as though they were the only ones there, as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Bell watched them looking at each other, and wondered what might be passing between them; it had to be more than just a look. She glanced at Will and once more stifled a flinch. _Why_ was he looking at them as if their unusually intense show of affection bothered him?

"We've been keeping each other awake," Deanna said after a few minutes, with the little puckish smile that she often had when teasing him.

"Snoring," he said, waving a hand dismissively, not quite looking at anyone's face as if afraid they would be laughing at him. His amused little smile might be smug.

A waiter stopped at their table. "How are we doing here," he murmured with a smile, bowing slightly.

"I'm done with this - do you have any tea?" Deanna asked.

"We have a variety of Federation blends -- would you care for a Vulcan tea, or perhaps something from Risa or Rigel?"

"Ginger tea, with honey," Deanna said. 

The waiter nodded, picked up her plate, and when no one else asked for anything he left. Jean-Luc unexpectedly put a hand on Deanna's shoulder.

Bell leaned back against Will's arm, which had been resting across the back of her chair since they'd finished dinner. She felt his thumb moving slowly along her shoulder; when she turned to look at him he was already gazing at her. Her lips automatically moved -- he returned the smile. "Happy?"

"With you, sure. I'm a little worried about her." Bell returned her attention to Deanna, as the waiter came back with a cup of tea and placed it in front of her. 

"I always have a little indigestion after food," Deanna said. "A common issue with pregnancy, I'm told."

A very quiet communicator chirp said someone was being paged. Bell sat up a little more, but Jean-Luc stood and left the table, heading for the door of the restaurant, answering the question of whose it was. 

"He doesn't seem concerned about your work, just about you," Will said softly. "Which is consistent -- he bragged about the way you handled the Klingons. As if there was any doubt about your diplomatic acumen. It's always been one of your strengths."

"I'm sure they'll work it out," Bell said, feeling that it was too easy to fall into the obvious anxiety the other couple was experiencing. Will's obvious fondness for Deanna showed, and it started the old feeling of insecurity, eating away at the pit of her stomach.

"I worried for the first few months of every new assignment," Will said, squeezing Bell's shoulder again. "Still a bit concerned about the current one. My new first officer isn't as seasoned an officer as I would like. I'd offer you the job but I think you're busy being someone else's Number One."

The lighthearted tease fell flat. Deanna wasn't amused by it; she sipped the ginger tea and looked in the direction of the exit. Jean-Luc had been gone too long and might have been pulled away from dinner by something, Bell thought, and just then he returned. 

"I'm sorry -- that was someone at the hotel contacting me about the reservation. I was afraid it was an emergency." He sat down and eyed Deanna, now hanging her head and staring into her tea cup. "Did something happen?"

"I'm not sure why, but I think it was something I said? I was just commenting about losing my first officer -- I'm sorry if it was a sore subject," Will said.

Bell gave Jean-Luc a sympathetic smile. "It's hard, untangling anxiety. It feels as though the two things, being pregnant and being promoted to a position that you want to meet your own high expectations in, would each be difficult. And maybe reminders of that only compound the problem?"

"I'll be right back," Deanna said. Her frown could be displeasure or it could be discomfort. Bell thought the latter. Shoving the chair back, she headed in the direction of the restrooms.

Jean-Luc frowned, watching her leave. 

"I'm sorry," Will repeated, sounding frustrated and repentant. 

"I don't think it's that she's insecure in the position. I think it's more that she thinks I'll be too lenient, and I'm not sure what to do about that." Jean-Luc shook his head and faced them. "There really has not been any problem, and it's not as though the pregnancy and the side effects of that condition are unusual -- we all have times when we're temporarily disabled for one reason or another, and taking time off to deal with it is part of the expectation. I can tell her she isn't neglecting her duties if she takes care of herself, that's why we have a chain of command, but it doesn't help."

Bell nodded. "Things that help a pregnant woman sometimes make no rational sense."

Jean-Luc pointed at her. " _That_ has been said to me by numerous people. But this is the first time I'm actually recognizing that while she thinks she is separating duty from hormonal interference, she actually cannot. So I'm going back to my original tactic of waiting for her to have the baby before I tell her that."

Bell laughed, Will smiled, and Jean-Luc joined them, so when Deanna did return she found a table of smiling friends, instead of concerned ones. "I missed the joke," she complained with an attempt at her own smile.

"Not at all," Jean-Luc said, turning his chair slightly and reaching for her. Surprised, she met him halfway in leaning for a brief kiss. "Do you want dessert before we go?"

"Did you say you had a hotel room?" Bell asked. 

"Yes, it's nice to get off the ship for a while," Deanna said. "And the rooms in the hotels can be quite luxurious."

"Maybe we should get a room," Bell said, turning to Will.

"Do they have hot tubs?" Will asked. 

"Some of the rooms do," Deanna said.

Jean-Luc chuckled. "All the ones we've been in have."

"Sounds really nice," Bell said.

"Married life agrees with you, Jean-Luc," Will said. "It's good to see the honeymoon is still going."

For some reason, Bell thought that sounded a false note, as positive as he was being. Deanna's face fell again. Bell wondered what had caused Deanna's sensitivity around the subject. Something she sensed, no doubt, and it wasn't anything that she or Jean-Luc would be feeling.

"We should go. We'll see you tomorrow," Jean-Luc said.

Deanna perked up a little as he said it. She stood with him, smiled at Bell and Will, and followed her husband to the front of the restaurant.

"Do you really want a room tonight? We should probably go see if they have one if you do," Will said.

"A change of venue would be nice." Bell thought about chiding him for spending too much time talking about first officers and Starfleet, when it was obvious that it was a sensitive subject right now for them, but decided it could wait til tomorrow to discuss with him the need to stop trying to resolve Deanna's problem for her. All it seemed to do was stress her out more.


	3. Chapter 3

Will approached the door to their quarters alone. When the door opened, this time Deanna was there and looking normal. "Good morning, Will. Come in. Jean-Luc is putting on a uniform."

"Thanks for the tip on the hotel. You're feeling better today," he said, watching her moving with an ease that she hadn't had yesterday. She wasn't in uniform as she'd been yesterday; the brilliant varicolored loose dress was a style he hadn't seen her wear before, and her hair cascaded around her shoulders freely, curly and with the slight frizz that said it wasn't brushed yet.

Her enthusiasm was dampened by that observation. She looked down, apparently embarrassed, and then she met his gaze again. "I'm sorry about yesterday. It was the hardest day I've had so far in this pregnancy. I'm afraid I was out of control for most of it. I couldn't stop myself -- I kept panicking and feeling so hopeless to change anything. It felt like it would never end."

"You didn't seem out of control," he said, shrugging. 

Deanna tried to smile again. She wasn't wearing makeup, either. Apparently she wasn't on duty at all today; it was mid-morning. "I felt like I was. If it persisted I would have found a counselor to talk to, or gone to sickbay again. I don't like the way it hijacked my mind."

He _almost_ asked what had happened that delayed them in the bedroom. But he thought he knew. "Was it kind of like the Phase taking over?"

Her reaction was the proof of his hunch -- she covered her face with her hands and moaned. 

"I'm sorry you're having so much difficulty," he said, genuinely sympathetic. It helped. She dropped her hands and looked at him again.

"I didn't know it would be this way. I would have made different decisions, if I'd had any idea. I'm _years_ away from the Phase."

"Well, I hope the doctor can help you keep it from becoming a hindrance."

"He's working on it. He's been optimistic." Her posture as she stood with him became less tense. He moved on to another unasked question.

"I noticed his tattoo -- I guess he's willing to go the whole way, through the traditional ceremony? Does he know everything that entails yet?" Will kept his tone of voice casual and light, knowing it was a sensitive subject. 

"Will," she chided, crossing her arms. So that was none of his business. The day had long passed, when she would include him in that tiny pool of people with whom she would discuss such matters.

"Sorry."

The bedroom door opened, and here came Captain Picard. The glance back and forth between them asked questions, but he went to Deanna, touched her back as she kissed his cheek. "I'm going to engineering before heading up to the bridge."

"Tell Geordi I'll meet with him in the morning about the performance reviews for his department. I'm going to spend the afternoon here, reading, since Dr. Mengis forced me to spend another day off duty."

"I'll let you know how the repair work is progressing." Jean-Luc looked to Will, then. "Bell didn't come along?"

"She took alpha shift today so some of the others could take some leave. If you're supposed to relax, I'll just spend some time bothering Jean-Luc," Will said, grinning.

Deanna gave him a tight smile and turned for the bedroom, as Jean-Luc headed for the door. Will fell in with him as he went. For a few minutes in the corridor it felt as though he'd never left -- it felt comfortable, being with Captain Picard. 

"Good to see she's feeling better," Will said. 

"Yes," Jean-Luc replied, and the clipped syllable said volumes. Then they were entering the turbolift. Jean-Luc seemed to relax, a little. "It's difficult to see her so distraught and uncomfortable, and nothing can be done."

"Hormones. I'd guess you'll have some interesting challenges when Yves is a teenager. Also when Deanna goes through the Phase."

Jean-Luc finished the turn to face front in the lift, and froze in place as Will mentioned the Phase. "Engineering," he said after a moment. His head turned slightly as he eyed Will. 

"I think your working relationship with her will be solid, once she settles in," Will went on. 

"Hold turbolift," Jean-Luc snapped. The lift stopped moving. He turned slightly toward Will. "What did you just say?"

That was his opportunity to back off, as was implicitly requested, but he wanted to make a point. "She might be overthinking now, but it helps that you treat her like a partner instead of a subordinate."

He inhaled, starting to bristle against the assertion, but as Will knew he would, he thought about it and recognized it was true. "Is that somehow different than the way I treated anyone else?"

"Yes and no. I think you've always valued her opinion and she's collaborated with you on many missions. You've gone to her for help many times over the years, so that's the dynamic you have with her now. If that back and forth just now was typical, you have a different approach with her than you did with me, and it makes more sense given the off duty relationship that you'd treat her more as an equal partner in command than as a subordinate. I think it will work."

Jean-Luc put his hands on his hips -- something he typically did when confronted with perplexing situations. "So -- you've gone from rejection to this, in how many months?"

Will spread his hands and held them up in surrender. "I'm just making an observation," he said with a smile. "Obviously she's fine as long as she's with you. And you have a long history of rational behavior in the face of incredible situations that would make anyone irrational."

Jean-Luc stared at him, turned to face forward, dropped his arms and said, "Resume."

"I know you won't invite any of us to the Betazoid wedding. But I don't doubt you'll do just fine," Will said, trying not to smile as he said it.

An audible sigh. But the last minutes of the ride to engineering were completed in silence. So he wasn't going to talk about it either.

But, again, Jean-Luc surprised him. As they reached main engineering, he slowed before the sensor could open the doors. "What do you know about the ceremony?"

"I was trying to negotiate with Lwaxana about it, years ago. I know she wanted me to have these permanent tattoos and basically sell myself to the Fifth House. I don't know how Deanna's father accepted all of it."

Jean-Luc actually smirked, which was curious -- Will wouldn't have anticipated that. But he said nothing, turned and strode into engineering, and Will followed as Geordi greeted them.


	4. Chapter 4

Bell went to her quarters and thought about finding Will, who probably was over on the _Enterprise_ already. One of the other nurses had showed up to take the second half of alpha shift.

The small suite felt so empty. They never spent any time in it. She always went to Will's, which made all kinds of sense really. The captain's quarters were bigger and he had a bathtub. The bed was luxuriously huge, the living room big enough to actually live in. Bell found herself missing her little house on a street in Vancouver. Joining Starfleet had been a spur-of-the-moment thing -- she'd been so done with the hospital she'd been working in, done with the gossip farm that was the nurses on her floor, all the petty drama. The recruitment had been persuasive. Exploring new worlds and having adventures.

The first few years on a space station had not lived up to the hype. But at least it wasn't sitting in the employee lounge listening for the hundredth time about Denise Cavanagh's freaky family issues. Being on the _Lexington_ was better in some ways. No drama. But then, there wasn't much else about it either.

Everything had been going so well, between Bell and Will. Except when Will wasn't really there.

She peeled off the uniform jacket and threw it on the end of the bed she hadn't slept in for four days. Spinning in place, she sat heavily on the hard mattress and put her palm to her forehead. She'd need an analgesic and a shower, before she went anywhere.

It was so hard, to love Will's friends, and hate seeing them.

Bell pulled off the boots, stripped off the socks, stood up and dropped her pants. As she tugged the undershirt over her head, swearing at it, the double tone sounded. "Computer, who's at my door," she snapped. She had no close friends aboard. Hanging out with Will, pretty much from the moment she reported for duty forward, seemed to be working against her there. 

_Commander Deanna Troi._

Bell hurried to the closet yanked a blue-striped sleeveless dress out randomly and pulled it on, smoothing it down and shaking out the skirt. "Come in," she called, heading out into the living area -- she couldn't even call it a room. In the smaller quarters there was no door between the sleeping alcove and the living area. The door opened as she ran her fingers through her hair. Deanna was wearing a shimmering blue and green dress and flats, she noticed. The baby bump was obvious, but the waist-less dress did a fairly good job of minimizing it. 

"Hi," Bell exclaimed, smiling. "I just got off shift. Everything all right?"

"Yes. Today, I feel like myself again. I'm so sorry that I was so off, yesterday."

"No, not at all," Bell chided, taking Deanna's hand briefly. "Hormones -- it's difficult to be yourself when your body is constructing a new person. Don't even worry about that."

"Thanks," Deanna said, smoothing both hands down her belly. An unconscious gesture, Bell thought. "I wanted to see if you'd like to join me -- there's a salon at the starbase, and I'm in a mood to be pampered."

"You're not hanging out with Will and Jean-Luc?"

Deanna gazed at her with a serious expression, and probably sensed the ire in spite of the casual tone Bell took. "I've been ordered to be off duty, and they're talking shop. I'd rather stay off duty. And this is a perfect opportunity to spend some time with you."

"Sure. Do we need a reservation for the salon?" There were three vessels in orbit, and the commercial area had been busy even late in the evening when she and Will had gone to the hotel.

"As it happens, I made one, for two. We're supposed to be there in half an hour."

"So we have time for a cup of tea?" Bell gestured at the couch and chair. "Go ahead, make yourself comfortable."

"I've had more tea in the past months than ever before in my life. Can I have a mai tai? Synthehol is safe."

Bell got two of the drinks from the replicator and sat down on the couch with her. As she took hers, Deanna glanced around. "This is like my old quarters," she said. "I didn't live in them much, once Jean-Luc expressed an interest."

"I've actually been thinking I should spend more time here."

Deanna's slight smile turned into a slight frown. But instead of asking the obvious questions, she crossed her legs and sipped her drink, waiting for Bell to continue.

"I don't feel like I really belong," she said, not knowing what else she could say. She hadn't thought about this in a while.

"Belong?"

"Will is restless," Bell confessed.

Deanna's brows drew downward at that. "Generally? Or about your relationship?"

"He keeps telling me everything is fine. He goes to the bridge every day. We spend time together, more evenings than not. Sometimes I think I'm imagining that there's something wrong because he has good days, but then there will be a stretch of days when he just -- thinks too much. He's stuck somewhere in his head, going through the motions. And he won't talk about whatever it is. Is it me? Is it Starfleet?" Bell sighed, and knocked back half of her drink. It really wasn't a bad mai tai. Maybe she should drink them more often. "And I don't want you to think that I don't like you, because you're absolutely wonderful, and I like your husband too. But when we're around you two, it's like he thinks about nothing else. He'll talk to me, flirt with me, but it's obvious he's got you on his mind more than me."

Deanna nodded, as she sipped and listened. "What do you want to do about it?"

"I thought after that long discussion at your wedding that it was resolved. But the change in his behavior was clearly temporary." Bell took another mouthful of rum and fruit, thinking it over again. "It isn't as though I want his attention all the time, day and night. I don't mind if he thinks about other things. That isn't what I'm talking about. If we sit down to dinner, when he asks me to, wouldn't it be a reasonable assumption for me to make that he might spend that time focused on me? I ask why he's so distracted and he shrugs. Last night, at the hotel, it was so nice. _So nice_. We had a lovely room, with a bouquet of flowers he ordered up for me. We were in this luxurious place, and he proceeded to tell me a story about the time he rescued Jean-Luc from the pirates looking for some Romulan artifact. We didn't talk about our next vacation, or our future, very much. And this morning I had to come back for duty, so we did, and he of course wanted to spend time with his friends -- he doesn't see you much. But he knew I would be off right now, and didn't tell me he would meet me or contact me to let me know where he was so I could come -- oh, I sound like the most petty person, right now, but it's not as though I'm expecting all his time. It's just this pattern, and it's really wearing me down."

Deanna's half-lidded eyes and the slight moue of disapproval said she understood, though. But again, her response surprised Bell. "You aren't happy with him. Have you considered your options? I doubt he would be vindictive, if you broke it off and stayed in your current assignment, but I know it would feel awkward to do so."

"Oh, it's been anything but enjoyable, being aboard the _Lexington._ I haven't really made any friends. Taking up with the captain the minute I came aboard put that to bed," Bell exclaimed. "Want another mai tai?"

"Sure." Deanna handed over the dregs of her first one, and Bell made the round trip to the replicator before she continued. "Are you saying it's been difficult here? Aside from the strain on the relationship," Deanna asked, taking the second drink as Bell returned to the couch.

"No one socializes," Bell said. "You talk about concerts and so forth -- they don't have those. I tried to get a girl's night out going, with some of the other women in our medical department. They all had 'something else going,' and also, I can tell when someone doesn't have any interest."

Deanna sighed, shaking her head slowly. "I wish I could help. The only thing I could do is to offer you a position."

" _What_?"

"There are three openings, in our sickbay. If you want to escape the current situation by taking a transfer. I can't give you advice on what to do about Will, and you wouldn't even need to break up with him necessarily to take one of the positions, but I can promise to evaluate the application fairly. Ultimately the decision is for Dr. Mengis to make."

"I'd think the flagship would be fully staffed."

"We were, until the transfers. Sometimes people promote or have personal reasons for going. The three openings are new; one left us shortly after we arrived here, the other two transferred just prior to the last mission and we haven't filled them yet. If you have any interest I can introduce you to Gregory."

Bell found herself smiling, at the thought. "I'd like that."

"We'll talk to him, then. But -- after we get our hair done," Deanna said, rising from the couch slowly. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely."


	5. Chapter 5

"I wonder where Bell is," Will said as he left Ten Forward with Jean-Luc. 

"Was she supposed to come aboard? You said she had a shift to work," Jean-Luc said, glancing sidelong at him as they strolled down the corridor.

"A half-shift, actually. Maybe she's visiting with Dee."

But when they arrived in the captain's quarters, no one was there. Jean-Luc went to the desk in the far corner, probably checking messages. Will huffed, propping his hands on his hips.

"Deanna went to the salon on the starbase," Jean-Luc said, returning to stand with him in the middle of the living room. "Perhaps Bell went with her?"

"Sounds likely to me. She likes Deanna."

"Computer, time," Jean-Luc said, leaning to pick up a stray cup sitting on the coffee table and heading for the replicator.

_The time is now fourteen hundred fifty-one._

"Almost time for dinner," Will observed. "Maybe we should see if they want to eat out?"

Jean-Luc turned around and gave him a sharp look. It stopped him before he could go on to list some of the other restaurants on the starbase. The other captain seemed distracted for a moment, and it occurred to Will that he might actually be communicating telepathically with Deanna, which made sense and yet it bothered him. 

"How have things been with Bell?" Jean-Luc asked.

That was startling. Jean-Luc didn't intrude on the personal business of others. While he would ask after someone's welfare, he generally avoided commentary on the private lives of his friends. 

"I think it's been fine -- could be better, could be worse. It was a little stressful being at the wedding but I hoped it would help, having her get to know everyone a little more," Will said. "She's felt left out. She doesn't understand why I feel so attached to you and the other former senior officers of the _Enterprise_."

Jean-Luc's guarded expression made him nervous. But he said nothing further.

The door opened, and Deanna came in. She wore the same dress but her hair was tamed -- styled and pinned back, with elaborate braids caught up on the back of her head and a few curls dangling around her face. Bell was right behind her, in uniform. Her shorter hair had also been put up in a sleek style that suggested Jean-Luc was correct about the afternoon's activities. But Bell was nervous; she looked at Will, but her eyes immediately went to Deanna, then to Jean-Luc. 

"Can I talk to you?" Deanna said to Jean-Luc. She pointed at the bedroom door. He went without a word, and the door closed behind them.

"Bell?" Will asked. Something about this was off.

She was looking at him again, with sad eyes. "I need to talk to you, too. I'm not sure this is a good place or time."

Will exhaled, thinking about all the tense moments and the way she looked at him sometimes but said nothing. He knew she'd struggled to fit in on the _Lexington_. He knew she'd felt as though being with him had caused some rift between her and the others in sickbay. He'd wondered sometimes whether it was real or perceived.

Bell shook her head and started to cry.

"You want to transfer? Leave me?"

"I want both of us to be happy, and I don't see that either of us is," she said with a wincing smile. "I don't know what else I can do. I feel stuck, Will."

"I'm not feeling very optimistic either, hearing you say that," he confessed, holding out his hands and letting them fall to his sides helplessly. "I wanted to make it work. I still do."

Bell crossed her arms tightly and looked down at her toes. "I just talked to Dr. Mengis," she said softly. "Someone transferred recently, and he thinks I would make a good addition to his staff. If I'm going to find my footing in Starfleet I need to give it a real try. I've been doing some thinking and I don't think that what's between us is the biggest reason I can't feel right -- the last time I really felt happy being a nurse was a long time ago. It's been a long string of positions where I haven't felt quite at home. Being on that starbase I felt like I was stagnating. Being on the _Lexington_ I had difficulty feeling like I had a fair chance. Dr. Corvus doesn't approve of my being with you."

That was news to Will. He shook his head in surprise. "He's never said anything about you."

"To _you_. Or to me, but trust me, I know when I'm being subtly rejected in ways that I can't object to officially. I want to be an active member of a team, not asked to do all the menial tasks. I'm tired of sterilizing tools and watching others work with patients."

Will stared at her, still working through it -- taking it in, that he was losing her. "Then you're transferring to the _Enterprise_ today?"

"I put in the request, yes. But that part isn't about us. It feels like it, maybe, but it's more about whether I want to be in Starfleet at all. And I don't think I've had enough experience or time to determine whether I can feel at home in Starfleet." She took a few steps toward him and did her best to look him in the eye. "Do you love me enough to let me do this for a while?"

"So are you saying you _don't_ want to break it off with me?"

"For some reason, I'm going to miss you," she said with a nod. "But I think we need some space between us for a while. I need to figure out how to be in Starfleet. You need to figure out how you feel about me."

"I already know that I love you," he said, smiling sadly.

"But do you love me as much as you love your friends? And why do you take so much upon yourself, involve yourself in their lives to such a degree?"

He scowled at that. He'd tried to explain this several times, but clearly she wasn't hearing what he'd said. She was right -- she didn't understand Starfleet. Her being a recent recruit rather than a career officer wasn't helping matters.

Bell watched his face for a moment, then continued. "Yesterday, you inserted yourself into _their_ lives more than was entirely necessary. When my own sister was pregnant, I _still_ waited until she requested my help to give it. That was my sister! Deanna was your ex, years ago, and your friend more recently, and yet you invested too much of the conversation with her in assessing how she felt and what she could do about it, when we could have been chatting about mutually-enjoyable topics and taking her mind off her anxiety. And neither of them asked your opinion. You didn't even let them know you were coming. Did you see what he was doing when we got here? He _wasn't_ obsessing about her welfare. She felt obligated to spend time with us, she could have been resting _as her doctor told her to do._ "

"She's still my friend, and the wife of a friend," Will said.

"That's not the way you look at her," she said quietly.

He inhaled sharply but stopped the words before he could say them. It stung, it infuriated him, but after a moment of anger and shock, he remembered all the moments -- Deanna looking sadder, Jean-Luc glaring in the lift, Bell being surprised when he'd admitted she had been right that they should have called first -- and suddenly, what she'd said before came clear to him. He was too caught up.

He saw that she was open-mouthed, watching him -- some of what he was fighting down must be showing in his face. He realized then that he was on the verge of tears. Groping for composure for another moment, he swallowed, hard, and tried to breathe again.

"I'm sorry," he said -- the rest of it left him abruptly, and he fought for the words. "I'm sorry that I didn't -- I couldn't see, how it came across to you. I want to talk to you later. When I can do it calmly. I do love you, Bell, I hope that you know that."

"It would be easier if I didn't," she said, tears on her cheeks. "It would be easier if I didn't love you."

"We'll figure this out," he said.

Bell stepped in, took his face in her hands, and kissed him, then turned and left the room.

Will took another few minutes to collect himself, hopefully stop feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach before he tried to go back to his ship. After a bit he heard the bedroom door open. Deanna came to him and let him see that she, too, was crying.

"I keep ending up apologizing to you," he said, as the tears started again.

"I know." Her sad, sad eyes didn't help.

Will didn't know what to say. He thought about all the changes, and the way it used to be, before. About sitting with Deanna at the end of a mission, chatting. About the reasons he stayed on the _Enterprise_ for so long.

"I need to go think about this," he confessed.

Deanna nodded. And said nothing.

Will stood there, uncomfortable, and realized -- he was waiting for her to ask if he wanted to talk about it. She hadn't done that since he'd been promoted to captain.

"See you later," he said, brushing past her, fleeing for the door.


	6. Chapter 6

"Here is your schedule," Mengis said, handing Bell a padd. "We rotate everyone through the shifts -- the doctors have set schedules, all support staff are given opportunities to work with all of them. If you have leave requests try to put them in at least two weeks in advance. If you have a particular interest in something, neurology or pediatrics for example, I can see that you are given more opportunities to work with patients to build experience within that specialty."

"Thank you." Bell tried not to cry -- this was so much the opposite of what she'd experienced on the _Lexington_.

Mengis studied her with his intense green eyes. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir. I appreciate the opportunity, I'm really looking forward to working with you."

Mengis' black mustache twitched. He turned to glance at the door to main sickbay as it opened; when he saw it was sickbay staff, his attention returned to her. "Come with me, please."

She followed him to the right, into his office, and he hesitated at the replicator slot and asked for coffee. As he picked up the mug that materialized he glanced at her. "No thank you," she said quietly. He gestured at the chair and sat behind his desk, putting his mug down in front of him.

"I want to say that I operate my sickbay with professionalism," he said calmly. "I don't want to overstep. However, I am concerned. I saw you at the captain's wedding, and it was obvious to me that you had a personal relationship with Captain Riker. You may be in more distress than is apparent, and impulsive -- "

"Doctor," she blurted. When she calmed again, she went on with a less urgent tone. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I do have a personal relationship with Captain Riker, and I do feel that Commander Troi is a good friend. However, my reasons for the transfer are professional. I don't feel that I have opportunities on the _Lexington_ that I would have here."

Mengis gazed at her with an inscrutable expression. "I spoke to Dr. Corvus yesterday, while I was at the starbase. We met at his request for coffee, with the chief medical officer of the _Destiny_. I understand your concerns."

Bell itched to ask what Corvus had said but sat upright and said nothing.

"You'll start on beta shift, tonight," Mengis went on. "Working with Dr. Selar. On Mondays the beta shift has a social hour on holodeck two following the duty shift, absent alert status. When you're on gamma the social hour is on Wednesday after shift. On your rotation to alpha, we'll meet in Ten Forward after shift on Friday."

Bell opened her mouth, and closed it again.

"Any questions?"

"No, sir. Thank you." She clutched the padd in both hands in her lap.

Mengis smiled unexpectedly. "Welcome to the family, Lieutenant Sumners. You are dismissed."

She stood up, and as she turned to go she hesitated, on the verge of asking, but still in shock and unsure of her footing.

Mengis stood and came around his desk. "You appear to be -- concerned?"

"I appreciate your time in orienting me, Doctor. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Mengis nodded, and she turned to go. The two nurses in main sickbay glanced at her with smiles, as she went through, and turned back to the crewman sitting on the biobed.

She walked down the corridor without paying attention, and because deck ten was in the saucer section eventually she ended up right back where she'd started in front of the door to sickbay. Shaking herself, she turned right instead of left at the next junction, and got in a turbolift. The two officers standing inside looked askance at her when she couldn't immediately give a destination.

"Deck seven," she managed after a minute.

"You're new," the female ensign said. "I'm Ensign Jacen Bakarra, Operations."

"Lieutenant Troy McNamara, Astrometrics," the young man said.

"Lieutenant Christabel Sumners. I'll be on beta in sickbay," she replied. "How long have you been aboard?"

"This is my first tour of duty -- I was a cadet five months ago," Bakarra said with a grin, clearly proud of her assignment. "Commander Data approved my assignment before he left."

"I transferred in two months ago," McNamara said.

"I was on the _Lexington_ until today," Bell said.

The two glanced at each other. "That's Captain Riker's ship, isn't it?" Bakarra said. "I heard he's a good friend of Captain Picard's."

Bell felt awkward as hell, but shrugged and gave it a go. "He was Captain Picard's first officer."

"How was it on the _Lexington_?" Bakarra asked.

"I can't really speak for the other departments, but sickbay was different. Much smaller of course, and not as friendly as it seems to be here."

The lift stopped, and McNamara said, "See you around" and exited.

"Do you play an instrument? I'm auditioning tonight for the string quintet, they're looking for a cellist."

Bell smiled at that. "I'm not a musician. But I make a great audience."

Bakarra laughed with her at it, as the lift stopped again. "See you later." She left Bell there by herself.

The turbolift opened at her stop last, and she walked down to her assigned quarters. The suite wasn't substantially different than what she'd had aboard the _Lexington_. The carpet was still gray, the smoked glass tables exactly like the ones in her old quarters. She sat down and looked up through the viewports. The ship was already under way. No going back now.

Part of her wanted to cry, at how effortless leaving had been, how light she felt now. The ongoing internal debate that had started when Will had introduced her to Deanna and Jean-Luc was finally silenced. She didn't have to wonder any more what he was thinking about, when she was with him, or what he wasn't telling her.

But she missed him.

Closing her eyes, she indulged second thoughts for a moment, then took a deep breath.

It was time to do as she had told him, make a better effort. So far, she had heard nothing to tell her that it was a bad decision.

The annunciator startled her. "Come," she said, rising to her feet.

Deanna came in, a polite smile in place, wearing the maternity uniform. "Good morning," she said. "I wanted to stop in and welcome you to the _Enterprise_."

"Thank you, Commander." Bell realized she still clutched the padd in her hand, turned and tossed it on the couch. "I just got here -- Dr. Mengis was orienting me to my new duty assignment. I'm really looking forward to working with all of you."

Deanna came closer, hands behind her back. "Counselor Davidson will be contacting you as well. A formality."

"Of course. I spoke to the counselor on the _Lexington_ when I reported for duty as well. I understand. And I plan to schedule more appointments, actually, since I think I really need to -- you know."

Deanna's sad smile said she did indeed know. "On a personal note... how are you feeling, now that you've gone through with it? I know you've gone back and forth for months, about your relationship with him."

"It feels right to me. Sad, but I think if we do stay together, we'll be better off having some space, to figure out our own minds about things."

Deanna had always had a knack for speaking volumes just with her expression. Her sad eyes, the firm set of her mouth, the stiffness in her shoulders, all suggested to Bell that she had a strong hunch that it wouldn't be so simple. Sometimes she wished Deanna would just tell her everything about her past with Will Riker -- Will had told her a story, of loving and losing Deanna long ago, and while she had no doubt he spoke the truth, it was also a certainty that he hadn't told her everything. Everyone had a bias all their own. Will's narrative tended to be a little too straightforward and glib, when it came to matters of the heart.

"If you need anything, let your supervisor know. If you want to spend some time with a friend, let me know," Deanna said with a warm smile replacing the moment of concern. She reached out with a hand, and Bell took it -- squeezed and let go, and watched the first officer of the _Enterprise_ head out the door.

"Computer, record a message to Captain William Riker."

_Recording._

Bell sat down again, hugging herself. "I just finished my orientation. I have some free time before beta shift, so I thought I would let you know, I miss you already... but this is going to be a good change for me. I'll have some good opportunities for professional growth here." She lost momentum, and said "Computer, pause."

What else was there to say? And she'd said it already, before leaving. She'd gone to his quarters and hugged him, before taking her scant personal belongings and beaming off his ship. He had repeated the words, told her he loved her. Thinking about it all, she just felt tired.

"Computer, delete message. How many hours until the start of beta shift?"

_Alpha shift will end in seven hours, twenty-seven minutes._

Sighing, she went to the bed, took off her boots, and sprawled on the coverlet. It was hard to adjust to a new shift schedule but she'd done it before. "Computer, give me an alarm in seven hours." She thought she wouldn't sleep through and need the alarm, but best to be certain.


	7. Chapter 7

Pacing was his new hobby. Will Riker kept moving. He'd been able to manage a relatively-calm conversation with Bell, before she left the _Lexington_ last night, but after a mostly-sleepless night followed by no appetite at breakfast he felt as though he might burst out of his skin. 

He wanted to talk to someone, but something in him resisted calling Bell directly. Giving her space as she wanted was the best thing, he told himself. And while part of him wanted to talk to Deanna about it, he recognized now that she hadn't been so forthcoming with him as he thought she'd been, especially since the wedding. At one time he had relied on her to be a sounding board, a good friend who would call him on his mistakes and be honest with him. Bell's observations had been the slap in the face that woke him up to the fact that at best his friends had been tolerating him. Very disturbing, that he'd been so oblivious. He used to be able to tease them. But everything had changed -- he knew it had, why had he acted as if the past couple of years hadn't happened and they weren't different people now?

After a day spent reeling, trying to sort out his thoughts, he could only see one way forward.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself as he paced the ready room. He thought he'd resolved things with his friends. "Computer, record a message for Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

_Recording._

"Jean-Luc, if you have time today, I'd like to discuss something with you. I feel that I owe you an apology at the least. I'll be here at the starbase most of the day waiting for my engineer to finish replacing gel packs. Computer, send message."

_Message sent._

He considered getting a cup of coffee, but he didn't think it would help. Turning to pace back toward his desk, Will almost ran into one of the chairs, when the ready room annunciator went off. "Come," he said, heading for his desk.

Commander Sovan stepped in. The new first officer had come highly recommended. Sovan was from Proxima, a human-Ktarian hybrid. He tended to be formal on duty, but otherwise personable. "Sir, there is a visitor requesting permission to board."

Will blinked -- he wasn't expecting anyone. The _Enterprise_ had left the starbase already, on their way to their next assignment. "A visitor looking for me?"

"Yes, sir. Wesley Crusher? He said that you invited him."

That was true -- Wes had sent a message last week, asking if he could finally visit the _Lexington_ as they'd discussed at the Picard wedding. He'd forgotten all about Wes' pending arrival in the wake of Bell's sudden departure. Well. Not so sudden, if he were honest with himself. "Which transporter room?"

"Transporter room one, sir."

"I'll go meet him -- permission granted," Will said, heading out. The bridge was quiet as it always was at a starbase; they were waiting for one more repair to be completed. The bio-neural gel packs on decks two and three were being replaced.

Wesley materialized on the pad and smiled as he stepped down. "Hi, Captain," he exclaimed. They shook hands and Will gestured at the door. 

"Welcome aboard, Wes. How are you?" he asked, as they left the transporter room.

The chagrined look surprised Will. "I wish I could say things are going well. Thanks for letting me tag along with you for a while, though."

Will slowed, glancing at the young man who'd been a boy not so long ago. A boy he'd mentored, no less. Wes, by Beverly's account, looked a lot like his father now. His voice had deepened and his shoulders broad, as compared to his teenaged self. He wore civilian clothing, in darker earth tones. His hair had been shorter at the wedding; some of it fell in his eyes now.

"I went to Earth with Mom. I told her I would stay and go to school. She's off being Captain Glendenning's chief medical officer now."

Will smirked. "This isn't school."

"No. I kind of missed a deadline," he said sadly, sounding more like his sixteen-year-old self again. "And I was spending some time with someone, but she lost interest."

"Aha," Will said. It wasn't as amusing as all that. "So you fell for someone, got distracted, and didn't enroll?"

"Oldest story in the book, I guess. Now I'm another member in the lonely hearts club."

Will chuckled dryly, giving his head a shake. "That's all right, Wes. You're talking to the president of the board."

Wes stopped smiling. "I thought you had a girlfriend. Bella?"

"Bell. She transferred." It was a much simpler story to tell, and less loaded with emotion.

"I'm sorry to hear it. She was really nice. Funny." Wes shrugged uncomfortably. "Everyone really liked her."

"I did, too, Wes. And it's not really a breakup, simply a concession to the nature of a Starfleet career." He put a hand on Wes' shoulder, cuffing him affectionately. "But no need to worry about me. We'll get you some quarters. Come on up to the bridge and I'll introduce you to the senior staff."

When they got there, Will found the doctor waiting for him as well as the first officer. He introduced Wes, then left him to chat with Sovan while he went into the ready room with Dr. Corvus at his request. The CMO had been on the _Lexington_ when Captain Norris retired, and Will had inherited him along with most of the crew and the ship. The gray-haired doctor was short, wiry and seemed angry most of the time; Will couldn't fault Bell for thinking Corvus didn't approve of her, since he didn't seem to like anyone.

"Captain, I wanted to discuss the matter of medical personnel," Corvus said without preamble. He stalked to and fro in front of Will's desk behind the two chairs waiting for occupants. "We've had too many transfers."

"It's not unusual, in an established crew, to have some changes in staffing following a change in commanding officer. I think we're still settling." There was also the issue of recruitment and fear post-Dominion War that they were heading into another conflict; Will was seeing and hearing signs of it, so the rumors were understandable.

Corvus leaned on one of the chairs, gripping the padded top edge. His glaring down his beaked nose was almost comical. "Captain. I've lost six people in two months. You've been aboard for nearly two years."

Will leaned back. "I've requested replacements, Doctor. I don't know what to tell you." He really didn't have it in him to be genial or conciliatory, today. The doctor was in fact annoying in general. Attempts to befriend him early on when Will came aboard had gone nowhere. Captain Norris had, when he'd handed off the _Lexington_ , informed him that Corvus was a good doctor and at his best in sickbay treating patients, but usually standoffish off duty.

Corvus leaned forward a little more. "You could promise me you'll stop sleeping with my staff!"

Will was on his feet instantly -- but he caught himself. Inhaled, slowly. Exhaled. "Doctor. Have you asked Lieutenant Sumners why she requested the transfer?"

"Oh, she _said_ she felt as though she would have more professional opportunities on a bigger vessel. But you can't tell me she didn't have other reasons, anyone with _eyes and ears_ knows she hasn't been happy here! Doesn't socialize, always looks depressed. Or anxious, first thing in the morning when she reports for duty! Didn't anyone tell you that fraternizing is a bad idea? You think we don't know how things are going between you, well, that's damned obvious, that she hasn't been happy!"

Will's eyes narrowed, as he settled into that cold, angry but controlled state that took over in a battle. He stared at the doctor for a moment, choosing words carefully. "Doctor. Not that it's any of your business -- but my relationship with her has not been terminated. She's doing what she feels she needs to do out of consideration for her career, as is her right. She hasn't been happy _in sickbay_ since she came aboard. I'd appreciate it if you would return to the subject at hand, what to do about the staff shortage in sickbay?"

Corvus's scowl deepened. "I think I will leave you to do whatever you please. You'll have my resignation before the end of the day." He stalked out of the ready room without looking back.

Will sat down again and groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands, trying to not succumb to the urge to throw things. "Computer, hot coffee, black and sweet. And a hypo of analgesic."

After he applied the hypo and sat down with his coffee, the computer announced another visitor. This time it was Sovan. When his brow wrinkled in concern, it distorted the network of ridges on his forehead and moved the vertical row of short spikes farther toward his hairline. "The prediction has come true."

"We knew Corvus wasn't happy. He wasn't making anyone else happy, either."

"I assigned your friend some quarters," Sovan said, sitting in one of the chairs. "Will he be with us for long?"

"For a while, I think. He's the son of a friend. He spent a few of his teen years aboard the _Enterprise_ , I was one of his mentors when he was working toward going to Starfleet Academy. We need a chief medical officer." Will leaned back, taking a long drink of coffee. "They're having real staffing issues, and it's getting worse."

"Have you looked at the media spots -- or been to Starfleet Command? Recruitment efforts have been on the upswing." Sovan exhaled audibly. "You okay?"

Sovan was one of the few aboard who hadn't been one of Norris' officers. Will knew him from Sovan's time in the operations department on the _Enterprise_. "I've been better," Will confessed. "I need to contact Admiral Tokenay. Let's talk afterward?"

"Sure. I'll go have Avitz contact Command." Sovan left the room. A moment later, Avitz contacted him.

"Sir, I have Captain Picard on a subspace channel."

"Put him through, thank you," Will exclaimed, relieved. Though it wouldn't necessarily be an easy conversation, it would be easier than telling Tokenay he'd lost another officer.

Jean-Luc looked out at him from the monitor. Years of serving with him led Will to understand that his subdued smile and inscrutable expression meant he was not quite certain how to feel about the situation. Guarded, without giving off the appearance of nervous and hesitant. "Will."

"Jean-Luc," he replied automatically. "How's Deanna doing?"

Jean-Luc's smile wavered, and he settled back a little in his chair. "She's back to normal, now. We're under way to the next assignment. How are you?"

"My chief medical officer just resigned. He's as unpleasant as Bell described him, unfortunately, and he's been losing staff for a while. I wanted to apologize to you for being... well. Clueless. I guess I'm not fully dialed in to the realities of pregnancy, I shouldn't have acted that way with her."

Jean-Luc gazed at him with an impassive, unreadable expression for a little too long. It suggested that something was off. "I think you also aren't aware of how she's changed."

"Oh, no. I'm pretty sure I'm aware of that."

Jean-Luc tilted his head slightly to the right. "Then you know how she feels about being first officer? Or that her empathy is much more sensitive than before?"

"I could tell she wasn't confident in her performance." The rest was news, true, but now that he thought about Deanna's mood it made sense that she'd been so out of sorts. "But I can tell that you're not seeing anything of concern."

Jean-Luc was frowning. "How are _you_ feeling, Will?" he asked, showing concern.

It tapped into the well of regret and pain, and Will couldn't look at his friend. "Not great. I knew Bell wasn't happy with how it was going in sickbay."

"I don't think she's very happy about you, either," Jean-Luc said.

That was an unusual statement, coming from him. Will usually took notice when Picard issued a judgment, because he didn't often do so on a personal level. "Did she tell you that?"

Jean-Luc's shake of the head wasn't unexpected. "Will. I've known you for almost a decade now, and if you think that I have been oblivious of your feelings about anyone, you're quite wrong. It's often been the opposite -- you aren't subtle. It was obvious to me that something existed between you and Deanna, long before she explained to me that you'd been engaged before, and it's still obvious that you have feelings that she doesn't reciprocate. I would also assume that Bell is quite aware."

"Thanks for your _input_ ," Will said sternly, practically forcing the words through his teeth.

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "If this is how you accept the observations of others, perhaps some introspection is in order. One of the first things I learned in counseling was that extreme emotion brought up in response to anything is an indicator of an imbalance within -- of perspective, of unconscious bias, or perhaps an indicator of trauma. I sincerely hope that whatever is going on with you is resolved at some point, because regardless of any of this, I do consider you one of my best friends. Which is indeed the only reason that I responded to your call -- any other man who attempted to tease my wife about serious matters when she's obviously suffering would have been thrown off the ship."

It sent him reeling, in the way Bell's summary had -- the only response he could manage, after a few moments of gaping and internal flagellation, was to look down for a moment at his desk. "Then I suppose I should apologize to her as well," he managed.

"Eventually," Jean-Luc said softly, his eyes half-lidded, his jaw set -- and that set off a new wave of shock and fear. It said that Jean-Luc was in fact angry, and not just issuing a statement. That he'd just lost access to Deanna. Now dread settled into the pit of his stomach, at the recognition of how seriously Jean-Luc was taking this.

"Nothing about this is what I intended, Jean-Luc."

"I know. And I'm also aware that sometimes even good intentions go awry. But -- it isn't clear what your intentions were, with Bell. I thought that this was all settled at the wedding, that you were happy for me, and for Deanna. After seeing you this time, watching you ignore Bell's attempts at nudging you away from intrusive behavior, I really start to question if you understand what 'moving on' really means." He paused, as if watching for signs of the damage his words were doing. Or perhaps considering what else he needed to say. "I think, at this point, that you have three people waiting to see if you can come to some conclusions about what you need to work on next. And you might also devote some of your time to counseling as well. I know you didn't feel inclined, before, but you apparently need more than your own experience to help you understand what needs to change."

"Thanks for the advice," Will said stiffly, aware that he sounded somewhat angry. He was -- mostly at himself. But Jean-Luc wasn't remembering what they'd discussed before.

Jean-Luc stared at him from the monitor, then leaned in slightly. "Will. Do you remember what I've told you about my history? About my feelings, on the matter of fraternization and my personal stance on relationships? Do you remember how far I've come in the past decade that we've known each other?"

"I do," Will replied, softer than before. "You've said a lot about the mistakes you've made, in encouraging me to not make them. Do you think I've made a mistake?"

Jean-Luc's smile was apologetic. "Not a mistake. Bell is wonderful. But, you may yet make the mistake of not evolving, and that would be criminal. You are an excellent officer, and a good friend. I want to see you prosper, Will, and I want to maintain a close personal relationship with you. So I hope that you consider what I've told you today to be said out of concern for you, more than anything else. I don't want to see you making a mistake that I almost made myself."

Will had to smile at that. He had so rarely seen this side of his former captain, and it was obvious that he meant what he said. "Which mistake is that?"

"Indeed," Jean-Luc said, chuckling. "I have danced on the tightrope over so many of them. The mistake of failing to learn how to question myself. To be clear in what motivates me, in any decision-making process. It's easy to be blinded by what we want to happen, in the pursuit of deciding what should happen. Realizing that I needed to be completely honest with myself saved me a great deal of time and trouble, at different points."

"You're telling me you're motivated by concern for me, in saying this."

"Mostly. In being honest with myself about the rest, I want to protect my pregnant wife from any stress that she does not need to bear." His tone hardened as he spoke. Wincing, he shook his head wearily. "Will, think about what you said to her. Think about Bell. Think about what you would do, if our positions were reversed. When you have come to a conclusion, call me."

The monitor went dark.

Will sighed, chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared angrily at his cold cup of coffee on the desk.

"Well, Mr. Riker," he said to himself. "We have a mission."

He thought about Bell -- about the things she'd said to him. Today, after being confronted by Jean-Luc, he felt calmer. So he considered the things his girlfriend had said and tried to line them up with the discussion he'd just had with Jean-Luc. It wound him up, because Jean-Luc was right; he was angry, and hurt, thinking about it, and part of it was because he could see truth.

He needed someone to talk to about this.

"Riker to Serna," he said, tapping his badge.

"Serna, here, sir."

"Please report to the ready room when you have a moment."

"Yes, sir."

She surprised him by showing up just a few minutes after the connection terminated. Serna was not Betazoid, but she had long dark hair and dark brown eyes. She was a psychologist, as Deanna had been, but not a career Starfleet officer -- yet another of the many staff who had started in the private sector then responded to Starfleet's appeal for medical staff. Gloria Serna smiled at him as she sat down and folded her hands on the arm of the chair.

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

She reminded him a lot of Deanna, actually. He found himself smiling back at her. It unsettled him again to realize his own response. This was the first time he'd earnestly wanted counseling to help him. Now, being confronted with someone who resembled Deanna and feeling an immediate attraction to her, it came home to roost that in fact he was entirely too emotionally involved -- he wasn't over her as he'd wanted to be.

Serna's initial smile started to fade. "Sir?"

"I have a problem, and I'd like your help sorting it out. It's going to take a while. Do you have the time?"

She smiled anew. "I have no more appointments this afternoon. What would you like to talk about?"

Will huffed, thinking about where to begin. The first thing that came to mind was Deanna -- what she would say. "The beginning," he said out loud, agreeing with the Deanna in his head. Then he kicked himself realizing what that said about him. He went on, with regret, "This is going to take a long time...."


	8. Chapter 8

On her fifth day aboard the _Enterprise_ , Bell felt that she'd finally somewhat adjusted to the change of shift. Going to Ten Forward for "lunch" (for alpha shift, anyway) was relatively easy. She wanted to see how it would be with a different crowd. Beta shift were friendly and professional, and she was finding it a little hard to believe how easy it was to make friends here.

For a moment she stood at the window, looking out at the stars. Something about being aboard the _Enterprise_ gave her the feeling of being part of something bigger, a sense of awe she'd not had aboard the starbase or aboard _Lexington_.

"Good afternoon."

She turned to smile at Geordi. "Good afternoon, Commander."

"I heard you were reassigned here," he said, with the faintest hint of sadness.

"Transferred, yes. I think it was a good move. I'm really enjoying it so far. It's very different. I don't understand it."

Geordi said nothing. She watched the inner workings of his artificial eyes move, refocusing as he looked at her. A fascinating piece of technology -- she'd been reading up on artificial body parts that had been developed post-war, as part of her job. Mengis wanted them to be productive in their down time in sickbay.

She realized, as the silence grew, that she'd made him uncomfortable. After a moment of guilt, she reflected on why, and sighed. Will had told her once that Geordi was an old friend, that he'd known him from an assignment prior to the _Enterprise_ , and remarking on the difference between the _Enterprise_ and the _Lexington_ had led to some discomfort for Geordi, somehow.

"I think the _Lexington_ doesn't feel like Will's ship to him," she said sadly. "He inherited it from a captain he didn't know. It's hard to budge people into new relationships after they've gotten used to the way things were. I had a similar change happen at a hospital I worked in. The new administrator changed a lot of the procedures in our department, shifted the protocols, shook things up... people started to quit and find other places to work. It's been so hard to settle in there. The doctor was so bitter about the changes after the war."

"Yeah, I think that's a lot of people," Geordi said. He put his hands behind his back and gazed out the window as well. "The _Enterprise_ changed too, y'know."

"I don't see how it couldn't change. From what I'm told it started after Worf left."

"Yeah, but it _really_ changed when Will took the promotion. And Dr. Crusher's departure was a hit on morale. Department heads set the tone, and we had the best. It's settled out now, we have some really good ones."

"Like you." Bell grinned and poked his shoulder with a finger. "I was at that party, I danced with a few of your engineers. They all looked happy enough."

"I do my best," Geordi said with a self-deprecating smile. "I learned a lot over the years from Will and Captain Picard. They're a tough act to follow."

Bell frowned and looked away for a minute.

"You're wondering what changed," Geordi said softly. "I wonder that too. I thought Will would step into command and come into his own. But he told me he's had a tough time since he left."

"I guess he's really different than Captain Norris, that's been said to me a lot. I really don't know. I came aboard much later than Will did. But I could see how... brittle, everyone was. There's nothing happening socially. I don't think Will really has any close friends aboard."

In fact, she knew it. And the look on Geordi's face said he understood.

"I think he missed the _Enterprise_ more than he expected to," Bell said. Will had told her that as well.

"Yeah," Geordi agreed. "That's part of the reason I'm still here. I know it's not easy anywhere, but it's harder to be elsewhere right now. It's true, I have really good friends here, and Captain Picard is the best captain in the fleet. I really wanted to see Will grab command and run with it. I wanted to go with him, at first. But it seems like the _Lexington_ was more of a challenge than he expected it to be. As much as we like to think everyone in Starfleet has the same ideas about life as we do, it's really proving to be otherwise."

She watched a couple come in and sit down, across the lounge. It brought a prickle to her eyes -- she blinked it away and shook her head. "I really miss him. Being busy helps though. There's more to do here. I like the way Dr. Mengis runs the sickbay. I hope Will is getting the counseling he said he would."

Geordi blinked, and it alerted her to the fact that she'd let herself talk more openly than she'd planned. "I'm sorry you've been having trouble."

Bell looked down at the floor, then up at the stars. The wrenching in her chest wasn't new. "I've had to finally stop hoping and come to terms with the fact that I will never replace Deanna, for him. I hope he does the same."

It shocked Geordi. She could practically feel the tension coming off him. He didn't seem able to move.

"You know what I'm talking about," she whispered. "He's told me himself, what he always thought would happen. How close they came to something, so many times, over the past nine years. And then they started to grow apart again -- he felt it, and tried to get her to come with him in hopes of repairing the distance. She refused. He told me all about being engaged to her before, and the other relationships he's had. I can't fault him for continuing to value her friendship, because she's a wonderful friend. I love her myself. I really was surprised at how she welcomed me as a friend."

She heard his sigh, and noticed the drop of his shoulders. "I always thought it would go somewhere. I think we all did. Wasn't something we talked about, really."

"I can't see her with anyone other than Jean-Luc, though." She watched Geordi flinch at her naming the captain. It was odd, to see even officers who were close friends of the captain struggle with using his name. Will seemed to be comfortable with it now, but he'd confessed that it had taken time to get there.

"Now, sure." Geordi sounded amused. "You didn't know him before. He wanted Will to be his public face, with the crew. Didn't want to socialize. I think between spending time with Wesley and starting to spend off duty time with the rest of the crew, and counseling, he was able to shift gears."

That was consistent with what Will had said. Bell realized she was hugging herself and dropped her arms, turning to look at Geordi. "Do you think Will has changed too? That he's evolved like Jean-Luc has, at least a little?"

Geordi backed a step. Shrugging, he glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know. I need to go -- I'm actually having an informal little staff meeting with a couple of my engineers and they just came in. Talk to you later." He touched her arm and walked off to greet a couple others who were choosing a table in the far corner.

Bell almost groaned. She'd pushed him to the point of discomfort in her attempt to sort out what might be contributing to her malfunctioning relationship. Turning back to the window, she shook her head at her return to the old habit of trying to figure out the relationship she wanted to work.

Will hadn't spoken to her since she left. It was almost as heartbreaking as leaving -- even an awkward conversation would reassure her that he still wanted to try, as he claimed he did. She had almost tried to contact him daily, but feared the conversation almost as much as the lack of one. What if he wasn't even concerned by her absence?

That was ridiculous. Of course he was. She knew he cared. But she couldn't get past the idea that he might not care about her as much as he cared about not being alone.

"Bell," came a familiar warm summons from her musings. She turned to smile at Deanna.

"I was just debating what to have for lunch. Join me?" Bell asked.

Deanna's happy smile waned. "I don't think that's what you were doing but I would appreciate your company. Over here." She pointed, and they went to the small table in the corner farthest from the door.

After the routine of asking for and getting food and drink, Bell picked up her fork and watched Deanna slowly pick up a spoonful of soup. "The appetite is still low?"

"I seem to cycle back and forth between starving and revulsion, every few meals," Deanna said, putting the spoon in her mouth and swallowing with a tiny wince. "I wish I could just eat again. How are you doing? I haven't seen you in three days." Since the dinner they'd had together, in the captain's quarters. That had been less fun than it had been supportive of her.

"I try to focus on work. I have an appointment with Counselor Davidson tomorrow."

Deanna ran the spoon around the inside of the bowl. "Have you spoken to Will?"

"We don't need to talk about it -- I know it upsets you."

Deanna's dark eyes flicked up and she dropped the spoon. Her hands resting on the edge of the table, she settled back slightly. "If there's something I can do to help I want to do it. I know you've likely been doing what we all do, in situations like yours. Endlessly ruminating and trying to figure out if we did something wrong."

"I don't think I did anything wrong. I don't see how I could have. I've been understanding, accepting, sympathetic, and present. I don't know what's really happening with him and even if I did, he's still got his own misinterpretations to contend with." Bell stopped herself -- it would be too easy to just go into a rant about how frustrated she was, and why.

Deanna seemed to be looking downward and to her right, and Bell realized she was looking at her own wedding ring. Bell thought she would do as people often did; change the subject. She knew Deanna wasn't the sort to gossip or spill out endlessly about someone else.

"Will thinks that if I had not been in love with Jean-Luc, I would have left the _Enterprise_ with him," Deanna said, keeping her voice low. "But I've told him before that would not have been the case at all. I told him that I would have left, but gone to Betazed and had children on my own. My world was nearly decimated in the war. I've been asked time and again to come home and help with the recovery. I could teach at the University, training up more counselors. I could easily step into the government and help organize the recovery effort. I could raise my children at home with my family's help and possibly find a partner in life at some point. Move on from all the risks of being in Starfleet and leave the past behind. That appealed to me far more than trying, one more time, to finally be with Will."

"But he didn't believe you." Bell picked up some of her pasta on her fork listlessly. "Any more than he accepts my observation that he still looks at you as if he's in love with you."

Deanna went still. Not surprised at all, of course, no doubt because she could sense what confirmed Bell's observation. Her lips twitched, and she glanced around, as if checking to be certain no one would overhear. She gazed at Bell with what seemed to be angry acceptance of something unpleasant.

"He's told you all about our relationship? Relationships, I should say. There have been a lot of stops and starts."

"His version," Bell said. "His ideas."

"And you stayed because he told you he wants to be with you. That he'll change, he loves you, he wants to be with you."

"He does. I believe him."

"As do I. As does he, because he believes it every time. I've watched him fall in love many times, you see. I honestly love him, Bell," Deanna said so very quietly. "But not in the way I did before. He's a member of a family that I love very much, and I want him to be happy. But there's been absolutely nothing that I could do to shift his belief that he is in control and he can make a relationship with me work simply by deciding that it does."

"Was he ever in counseling with you?"

"No, that was never possible. There are reasons that mental health practitioners can't see former sexual partners in a client-therapist relationship. And while he did occasionally speak to one of the others aboard the _Enterprise_ it was never ongoing therapy. Has he ever told you about his father?"

Bell shook her head. "I didn't know he was still alive. Will always mentioned him in past tense, and only in passing."

"I met Kyle Riker once. Will isn't as arrogant. But it helped me understand a lot about how someone can be completely honest, and yet be dishonest to himself."

" _Yes_ ," Bell blurted, before she caught herself. It resonated too well. Felt too real. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes. She dashed them away with her napkin, and inhaled sharply, trying not to break down completely.

"I watched my mother make the same mistake over and over, and she doesn't listen to me either," Deanna said, her own eyes glittering. "She hasn't yet learned how to be happy. But I know now, I think I've known all along but haven't truly articulated it until recently, that we are happy in relationships only when we genuinely invest in the happiness of the other. Not our own. Happiness is transitory and only achieved with any real permanence in relationship with others. And being with someone who reciprocates makes marriage work."

"Oh!" Bell's mind raced, as she saw through this new lens everyone in her life. Her own parents had been so happy together, her sister had not. And she thought about Jean-Luc, quietly making a crib and watching his wife while she talked, touching her arm -- Bell was certain now that it was exactly the problem, that Will only understood part of the picture but believed that he understood all of it. Love wasn't just what you felt, Bell knew that. But there had been enough of the rest to keep her from seeing the real root of the problem.

Deanna took another spoonful of soup, making a face. And that too was love. She had to eat. There was a child to feed, and while she struggled to put food in her mouth, she held a hand to the bulge in the ugly maternity uniform.

"He hates his father," Bell said, remembering the look on Will's face that one time he'd described him. Arrogant. Dismissive. Cold. Will had described being left to fend for himself, and smiled with pride that his thirteen-year-old self had done 'just fine' without his father.

Deanna looked tired, and gave her head a shake. "I was so upset with my mother for being irrelevant and capricious. So upset that she couldn't just settle down, and be introspective until she figured out what she really needed to make herself happy. And I came to recognize that what bothered me the most was that my anger at her was really just anger at myself. I was happy with my career. I am a good counselor. I helped so many people, even took the bridge test and did things that I am still proud of -- all of it was beyond what I ever expected to be. I have learned _so much_ being here, and yet there were gaps. I would start to fall in love and then the other person would be gone, or turn out to be someone I couldn't be with. I'm so glad to be Mrs. Picard." Her pleased smile lit up her face, and it made Bell's heart ache, wishing she could do the same.

"Will hasn't done the work to understand," Bell said sadly. "And -- oh, Deanna, I wish he could see what he's doing." The relationships with his old shipmates had been just as she described, happy. It made his somewhat obsessive focus on them make sense. "It's one thing to say you'll find happiness, love someone, commit -- it's another to let yourself authentically work through those unconscious emotional weeds and false images to actually do it."

"I have hope that he will," Deanna said. "I just don't know what else can be done to show him how to do it. I know Jean-Luc spoke to him, and it took a lot for him to do it. But I hope that you do whatever you feel necessary, for yourself. I'm glad you're getting counseling."

"Do you think I should break up with him completely, just let him go, at least for now?" The question had been bothering Bell since she'd decided to separate from him.

Deanna pursed her lips. Of course, she didn't want to give advice about that. Bell put another forkful of pasta in her mouth and chewed, not expecting a response.

"It's your decision, of course. I will support you no matter what you decide. But I think it would be easier for both of you if you articulated to each other that it's an end, rather than a pause. I don't recommend ambiguity. It hurts more," Deanna murmured.

Bell dabbed the napkin at her eyes. Silently, she agreed, and resolved to contact him to have the conversation in real time. Smiling, she looked up at Deanna struggling again to eat. "Thank you for not being my counselor. I appreciate the advice. I know you don't like giving it."

"I wish that I didn't have to," Deanna replied wistfully. "Because that would mean that you and Will didn't have this issue and you'd be very happy together."

"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride," Bell said, echoing her grandfather.

"Interesting saying. Do you like horses?"

There it was, the change of subject. Bell smiled even as she wiped away the last of the tears. "I used to ride with a friend when I was a kid, but haven't since. Why?"

"Since we have another day before reaching our destination, Jean-Luc and I are going riding on the holodeck. Would you like to come?"

"I would love to," Bell exclaimed, happy about the confirmation that they would all still be friends, even though she was now an officer in their chain of command. She'd been hoping it wouldn't create a distance with Jean-Luc. "But I'm going to take a nap before my next shift. I'm still adjusting to it. I'd love to go next time, if it agrees with my shift schedule."


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't say that I'm surprised, Will," Admiral Tokenay said from the small screen on Will's desk. "Corvus wasn't happy when Captain Norris was still in command. Do you have anyone in mind, or should I consult with Starfleet Medical?"

"I have several positions open, in medical. We need the CMO plus six support staff -- I'd appreciate any personnel you can send. I'm hesitant to leave the starbase while we're so understaffed."

Tokenay wasn't human, but his yellow eyes in his scaled saurian face seemed sympathetic. "We'll see what we can do. Unfortunately, Starfleet as a whole is still having the same problems. I'll speak to Admiral Jovus and let you know, Captain. Tokenay out."

Will Riker ran his fingers through his hair and wondered when he would cut a break. He thought again about contacting Bell, and finally followed through. "Riker to bridge -- open a channel to the _Enterprise_." 

"Aye sir."

The light on the desk blinked -- Will touched it, and deLio's reedy voice said, "This is Lieutenant-Commander deLio, of the _Enterprise_."

"I'd like to speak to Lieutenant Christabel Sumners."

"One moment." There was a pause, and then Bell's voice came from the desk.

"Will."

He leaned forward, not liking the very calm, but not at all warm, tone. "Hi. How've you been doing? I've been wanting to call -- didn't want to bother you."

"Oh," she said as if that surprised her. "Same here. I miss you so much."

"I'm stuck here at the starbase, still. Horvath is trying to get to the bottom of a failure in the EPS system -- he's pulling in folks from the starbase to track it down. This old ship has sure been nothing but malfunctions," Will said, frustrated. The ship wasn't even that old -- it had been commissioned shortly after the start of the Dominion War. He paused, re-oriented himself, and asked, "How is the new position treating you?"

"I'm on beta shift with Dr. Selar. It's been a huge change -- people treat me like I'm a peer. I'd forgotten how good it feels to be a part of a team. Dr. Mengis is strict but he supports his staff and it shows."

"I'm talking to the counselor. I know that what you said before, a lot of it is true. I need to work on myself. I know it's long overdue," he said.

A brief silence ensued. He was about to speak again, to ask what was wrong, when she beat him to it. "I'm in counseling too. I've had my own epiphany about how I was contributing to the problems we've had. I'm sorry, Will, that I wasn't being completely honest about my feelings. I told you at the beginning that I thought you weren't over Deanna. I thought we resolved a lot at the wedding, when we talked it out. I believed it would be better from that point. But you were dismissive of my concerns about my difficulties in sickbay. I got the impression you thought I was making it up. But being here has showed me that I was right to feel as I did. I was letting myself believe what you believed, feeling off, thinking I was exaggerating or misinterpreting. And I think I was doing the same when it came to us. I wanted to believe everything was all right so much that when I felt otherwise, I minimized or suppressed the feelings, instead of telling you."

Will's hackles rose. "What are you saying?" he whispered.

"I am saying that I am not giving up on us. But I know that I need to continue to work on myself, and you need to find a way to work through your feelings for Deanna once and for all. Because they are there and I'm not the only one who sees them. She can sense that you have them. Denying them isn't helping you. I love you, Will -- and I mean that, one hundred percent. So I'm going to let you go for now. I'm going to focus on my career, and wait for you to do some of the counseling and work through it. And if you do finally let her go, and you move on because it turns out you're over me too and don't want to try again, that's all right. Because I want you to be happy. Honestly, completely happy. And I don't know if you can do that with me. I know that I can't do it with you, right now, as things have been."

He leaned over his desk, and a couple of tears tapped on the glossy surface of it. He could hear the tears in her voice as she spoke. Breathing was difficult. He didn't want to shout, so he sat and tried to recover well enough to be coherent.

"Good bye for now, Will. Maybe I'll see you again." The computer beeped, signaling the end of the channel. She hadn't waited for his response.

Will closed his eyes.

Although he'd half-expected this it still weighed on him, still felt like failure. Forcing himself to sit up, he tried to shake it off -- he had a few hours of alpha shift left, and some reports to review. Tokenay would be calling back soon. If he could get a new CMO they might be off to the patrol they were already late for, on the way to survey a system.

This was the sort of situation that he used to talk to Deanna about. She hadn't formally been his counselor but she had always been that one close friend he could talk to. And so he felt cheated twice over -- it hadn't been fair of him, he knew, to expect her to take him back when he'd accepted the fourth pip. He still regretted his outburst that had alienated both his best friends, and in thinking about the situation he could see how it had come to this. He'd introduced Bell to them, and they liked her as he had hoped. But now she was on the _Enterprise_ and after everything was said and done, she was deciding that her interpretation was correct.

He knew he wasn't in love with Deanna in the same way he'd been, years ago. He knew he had wanted her to come with him because he missed the way it was before. Why would Deanna tell Bell that she sensed otherwise?

He wanted to call Deanna and tell her he didn't appreciate that she misinterpreted his feelings. But Jean-Luc had made it clear that wouldn't be welcome.

Will paced around the ready room, until the annunciator went off. He came to a stop at the end of his desk. Hands on his hips, he almost denied the person entry. But shook it off and said, "Come."

Counselor Serna came in and stopped just inside the ready room door.

"I missed my appointment," he exclaimed. "I didn't realize -- I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

She gazed at him with the same imperturbable calm that Deanna had always had. "Did something happen that distracted you?"

"Yes." He heaved a great sigh, feeling heavy again. "I spoke to Bell. She told me that she loved me, but she didn't feel it was going to work, after all. So I guess I'm a bachelor again."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the counselor said. "I know you hoped it would work out."

"The curse of a Starfleet career," he said flippantly, gesturing dismissively with one hand.

"Actually, statistics suggest more than half of Starfleet officers are married, or co-habitating. But that's neither here nor there. Would you like to talk about it?"

Will nodded. "If it's not too late -- would you like me to come to your office?"

"We can meet here. It's no imposition." She moved to the sofa near the door and sat on the end, and so he moved to take the other end, leaning back and crossing his legs.

"It's funny, I was just wishing I could talk about it with Deanna." He'd explained the long history of his relationship with her, as it was a large part of the problem.

"What would you tell her?"

A straightforward enough question, without a simple answer. "How much I miss her. Bell, I mean."

The counselor gazed at him with half-lidded eyes, reminding him of the way Jean-Luc had looked at him during their subspace chat the other day. "How would she react to that?"

"Deanna?" The question took him aback. "She'd be sympathetic. Remind me that these things don't always work out."

"Anything else?"

There had been times that there had been -- long ago. Now and then, when she was unexpectedly amenable, he and Deanna had been more physically intimate. Then not, for months at a time. The last time had been well over a year before her brief relationship with Worf. She'd rejected his infrequent attempts, after she'd ended it with Worf.

"Captain?"

"I was remembering a few times, a long time ago. We were never really in an ongoing intimate relationship while we were both on the _Enterprise_ and she's married now."

"How do you feel about that? How do you feel about her?"

"I'm not in love with her," he said at once. It was true. Something in him rebelled against that idea. "She's a friend, though. She and her husband."

"Tell me about how you met Bell. Was it at all similar to how you met Deanna?"

This was different than the last couple of sessions, which had been a fairly straightforward accounting of his history and his relationships. "Not really. I was stationed on Betazed when I met Deanna and I was a lot younger. I wasn't really serious with her, at first. She was beautiful and enthusiastic, and after a week or two I was completely head over heels -- the more I got to know her, the more I -- "

After another pause, Serna said, "And?"

"I guess there are some similarities, superficially. But Bell's different. She's nothing like Deanna."

"Deanna is a counselor. Bell is a nurse. Both sound as though they have a great deal of empathy and a soft, nurturing and accepting nature." Serna herself continued to gaze at him as she spoke in her usual straightforward but gentle way.

"But Deanna isn't always soft. She's never had a problem being direct, confrontational, when it was necessary."

"You said that Bell informed you that she still thinks you have feelings for Deanna. That sounds just as confrontational. Your lack of anger about it suggests she was able to do so without sounding angry or accusing."

"You're right," he said faintly.

"I wonder if the only thing about Bell that doesn't appeal to you is the fact that she is not Deanna?"

The question was put forth with curiosity, such that it didn't immediately engender anger. But he frowned. "I don't think you understand."

"Are you sure about that?"

He was angry, then. And it showed in his face, as the counselor leaned away from him slightly and lost her slight smile. He sat with it, then remembered what Jean-Luc had said about extreme emotional responses. The counselor he had learned it from had to have been Deanna.

That didn't help, either. 

"Do you believe that an emotional response to something that's said is a concern?"

"That would depend on the context. What was it that made you angry just now?"

"You're suggesting that Bell doesn't appeal to me. Why would I be with someone who didn't appeal to me?"

Serna shrugged. "I could come up with possibilities, but I'm sure you could as well. What do you think?"

"This is -- " He almost said ridiculous. But that was dismissive. And he knew counseling was what he needed to do. Still, he didn't want to accept what she was saying. It felt wrong. "I love Bell. She's not Deanna, and I don't think she's all that much like her either."

"You have a way of believing things that aren't substantiated by observed evidence. Or are you saying Bell was wrong to tell you that you still have feelings for Deanna?"

"Feelings, yes, but I'm _not_ in love with her!"

The indignant assertion came out too loud and too strong. That Serna wasn't surprised, or upset, or defensive, took him aback. She looked too much like Deanna, at the moment, and once more he felt a twisting sense of loss and pain.

Then he wanted to do something. Run, or fight. He realized his hands had balled up into fists.

"Were you happy at her wedding?" Serna asked, in the same innocuous tone.

Will couldn't say that he was happy at any time, any more. He was frustrated and trying not to snap at the counselor. "I don't remember."

"Strange, to not remember whether you were happy at the wedding of your two best friends."

"Are you deliberately provoking me? Is this how counseling is supposed to be, you making accusations this way?"

Serna gave him a slow blink and a steady look. "I'm asking questions based in my observations, and repeating back to you what you have said. Does that meet your definition of an accusation? I acknowledge that this can be provocative -- it often is, in my experience."

Will sighed and looked at the ceiling. "You think I'm still in love with Deanna."

"How does it feel to say it?"

How did she know that it felt different? She wasn't Betazoid. He couldn't speak.

"Say it again," Serna prompted gently.

"I'm in love with Bell," he exclaimed.

That didn't shake her. "Does that feel true to you?"

"It _is_ true!"

"I can understand why you want it to feel true. Why you wouldn't want it to be true, that you are in love with your best friend's wife."

Will was on his feet and pacing. "If you're just going to reject what I say outright what good are you?"

"I'm only helpful if you answer questions truthfully."

"Out," he snapped, pointing at the ready room door.

Serna rose and left the room without another word. He felt guilty for a moment. Then the computer signaled for his attention, and he went to the desk. Avitz announced the admiral was calling again, so Will shook off what was left of his reaction to the counselor and sat down. Years of snapping back to ready for duty brought him all the way back -- as Admiral Tokenay's face appeared on his monitor he had a pleasant expression ready for his commanding officer. He would decide whether to continue with counseling later.


End file.
